My Husband’s Pregnant Mistress Slapped Me at a Luxury Gala—He Said, “Touch Her and Our Marriage Is Over,” So I Hit Back, Sold the Company He Thought Was His, and Walked Into the Arms of His Billionaire Rival...

I finally stopped.

Chloe stood before me, shivering like a wet leaf, both hands pressed tightly against her crimson, swollen cheeks. Tears and heavy black mascara were running down her face, ruining her flawless makeup.

Grant pulled her behind his back, his chest heaving, his face flushed purple with intense rage.

“You are completely finished in this city!” he roared. “My legal team will tear you to pieces! You will walk out of this marriage with absolutely nothing!”

I walked back to Victoria, retrieved my clutch, and slipped my diamond bracelet back over my wrist.

“Am I finished, Grant?” I asked calmly.

“You won't get a single dime of my family’s fortune!” he hissed. “Not a house, not a car, not a single stock!”

I laughed out loud. The sound was light, airy, and entirely genuine.

Grant blinked, caught completely off guard by my reaction. He had forgotten something fundamental. In fact, in his blind arrogance, everyone in his inner circle had forgotten.

Mercer Dominion Group had his family surname blazoned across the top of the Manhattan skyscraper. But the company did not belong to Grant Mercer. Not even close.

Six years ago, when his father, Charles Mercer, lay dying in a private hospice room, he called me in for a private meeting. He knew his son was reckless, vain, and easily manipulated by flattery. Charles knew that if Grant held total control, he would destroy the legacy within a decade.

So Charles transferred fifty-two percent of the company’s super-voting shares directly into my personal trust. Not to his son. To me.

I pulled my phone from my clutch, unlocked the screen, and placed a call.

I put it on speakerphone instantly.

The line rang once before a sharp, familiar voice answered.

“Evelyn?”

“Martin,” I said.

Grant’s face noticeably shifted. He recognized the voice immediately. Martin Shaw was the most feared corporate litigation attorney on Wall Street, a man who had dismantled billion-dollar conglomerates for breakfast.

“Are we ready?” Martin asked over the speaker.

“Begin the sale,” I said plainly.

Silence filled the ballroom, heavy and suffocating.

Martin’s voice came back, crisp and clinical.